The Priestess' Downfall
by Gaia the Reader
Summary: We all wondered what happened after Feyre ran out of the Weaver's cottage and locked Ianthe inside. Well, this is my bloody and very much graphic version. 18 ONLY! Read the warnings!


**WARNINGS!**

**VERY GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AHEAD!**

**There is much violence in this oneshot!**

**If you are easily impressed, DO NOT READ!**

**Triggers for abuse and murder (very bloody murder).**

**18+ ONLY!**

**If you feel like braving this fanfic (and hate Ianthe as much as I do), enjoy my work!**

* * *

IANTHE'S POV

"Dinner" that bitch Feyre said. Before whirling around the door and slamming it shut. I sighed. Her attempt was pathetic. As much as she was. I couldn't believe Fate assigned that bitch to be Rhysand's mate. She wasn't worthy. Yes, she had a body that everyone—even _I_—envied, but that was it. She was just a good fuck, nothing more. _I_ was worthy of Rhysand.

I raised the ball of faelight I held in my hand and froze.

In front of me stood a terrifying creature. It had rotten pointy teeth, black pits for eyes and a supple, desirable body. The Weaver.

The guards beside me started screaming, as did I. The Weaver stepped forward, and I ran to hid behind a small table. The two guards unsheathed their swords. Fools. The Weaver would disembowel them in seconds.

And she did. She grabbed the first one, a pretty blonde male I had bedded twice, and sunk her rotten teeth into his neck. His screams fell onto deaf ears as she feasted on his blood, before taking a bite out of his neck, tearing away the soft flesh. Blood sprayed everywhere, it was on her dress, onto the dead guard's clothes, it soaked also the other male's clothes.

Only my robes were still pristine, since I had hid.

The Weaver finished feasting on the blonde's body. She then turned to the other guard. She did the same thing to him, feeding off his blood and flesh.

The scene was horrifying. Blood and pieces of skin and flesh were everywhere. The tang of death permeated the space and make my knees tremble. It took everything in my power to not vomit.

Then I hear her voice, "Dear mouse, come out."

I felt like fainting, but a strange force compelled me to follow her orders.

I slowly revealed myself, leaving my hiding place. In the middle of the bloodbath stood her. The Weaver. Before, she was wrinkled, old and horrible. Now her skin was pale and smooth, her teeth perfect, her entire appearance dangerously inviting.

To my horror, I felt heat pooling in my legs.

She sniffed the air, and then smiled.

I trembled, for fear of desire I didn't know.

"My little wolf made known to me that you like to use males and female as your playthings. To have sex" she said, and even her voice was seductive.

Feyre. That bitch.

"Is that true?" she asked, taking a step toward me.

I nodded, unable to lie under her scrutiny. Despite the fact that she was blind, she must have had some kind of magic that permitted her to perceive things, because she continued as if she had saw me with her own two eyes.

"Then, this time, you'll be _my_ plaything."

What did she mean? At that moment my mind was elsewhere. Her body was so beautiful…

"Remove your clothes." That caught my attention. I looked at her, and she raised a brow. "_Now_" she snarled.

I obeyed instantly. I quickly removed my robes, leaving myself naked and at her mercy. My body was in no way imperfect, but I felt strangely ugly in front of her. My breasts were peaked from the cold and heaved with my every breath.

She smiled when she looked at me. Then she said, "My, my… my little wolf surely brought me a nice gift."

She then took a few steps forward and came to stand in front of me. So close that her chest brushed against mine. The heat in my legs intensified.

The Weaver kissed me lightly, blood still covering her, and whispered "Close your eyes."

I obeyed. Then I felt her hands cup my breasts. She squeezed them until I screamed. Pain or pleasure I couldn't tell. Probably both.

The blood that was on her hands remained all on my breasts, as I noticed when she told me to open my eyes. I looked into her eyes and saw pure, ravenous lust and hunger.

I moaned like a well-trained slut when her hand dived between my legs, the blood lubricating her movements.

She then plunged her teeth into my neck. I should have felt pain, fear, something else other that pure pleasure, but lust had overcome my body. And there was no coming back.

I felt her suck my blood. It was one of the most erotic thing I had ever felt. Her fingers moved in harmony with her mouth on my neck. She then returned her attention to my breasts. She released my neck with a sickening yet erotic pop, and latched onto my left nipple. She sucked and nibbled, then she bit. Hard.

I screamed in pleasure, despite feeling my flesh break under her teeth. "More" I begged her.

"You want more?" she asked, a smile in her voice. I nodded, unable to talk.

She pushed me down to lay on the bloody floor. My head rested against something soft but cold. A dead body. I didn't care one bit, not when her fingers were still moving inside me. I opened my eyes, and saw that she had bit so hard on my breast that she had teared away flesh. I didn't care, the pleasure was too consuming.

Her fingers brought me a level of pleasure I had never experienced before. The Weaver looked at my blood-covered body with lust and hunger before straddling my waist. She remover her fingers from inside me and I whimpered. She smiled evilly at the sound, then she caressed my hair, "Don't worry, my pet. I'll make it good, just like my little wolf would have wanted."

Maybe Feyre wasn't so bad after all, if she was indeed responsible for this world of pleasure.

The Weaver bent over me an kissed me hungrily, her tongue still tasting like blood. I kissed her back with need and desperation. My hands made to tangle in her hair, but she slammed them back and crushed my wrists in the process. "Stay still" she snarled.

"Yes" I breathed. I didn't even feel the pain of my broken bones, or my teared flesh.

We kissed for a while, her hands exploring and ravenous. Then her mouth found my right breast. She sucked and bit lightly the flesh until some blood trickled down my full globe. She licked the red liquid greedily. Then she looked at me, "My pet, look as I feast on you."

Her voice was hypnotic and sensual, I couldn't have done anything but what she commanded me.

So I watched as she started nibbling at my finger, then she bit it and teared away the flesh from the bone. She quickly chewed on my flesh and gulped it down. She did so with all my fingers.

I should have been terrified, in pain, but there was only pleasure.

She then cut open my stomach with one of her nails. She started eating my innards. I watched enraptured as _my_ flesh fed her. Satisfied her. A corner of my mind took notice of the fact that I should have been already dead, but probably the wondrous magic of this creature was keeping me alive to experience all this pleasure.

Then she worked on my breasts, she finished the left one and ate also the right one. My body was beyond horrible, but in this sea of sensations I didn't care.

The Weaver then rose on her feet. She walked away, but came back almost immediately with a pair of scissors. She cut off all my hair and placed them on a small table by her spinning wheel.

She then turned and smiled at me. It wasn't a kind or lustful smile. This smile was full of hatred, wickedness and revenge. I was confused.

Almost immediately I felt something change. I started feeling my blood seeping out of myself, my cracked bones and my teared and missing flesh. Slowly all the pain came back.

Then I realized. She had done all of this to feast on my body and youth and to make me suffer.

And that _bitch_ Feyre had brought me here.

That was my last coherent thought before the pain came to me full-force.

STRYGA'S POV

_I laughed as the female the High Lady—my little wolf—had brought me started screaming. _

_I would have thanked her next time I saw her, for this was a delicious and refreshing dinner. Thanks to this, I could even forgive her for her theft. This day reminded me of the old times when I was adored along with my brother, and sacrifices like these were made by foolish Fae._

_My Feyre wasn't so foolish. No, she was worthy of my respect. My High Lady._

* * *

**What do you think?**


End file.
